


To Protect and Serve

by AnUnexpectedMuffin



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5205671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnUnexpectedMuffin/pseuds/AnUnexpectedMuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody is born knowing how to be a butler to a superhero, and there aren't any good textbooks on the subject. But that doesn't mean the information isn't out there, if you can find the right person to teach you. <br/>(Or, JARVIS and Alfred Pennyworth on the fifty-seven different ways to disarm someone with a tea tray, and where you seat the archenemy at a formal dinner.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Protect and Serve

When Sir announces to the entire world that he is, in fact, Iron Man, JARVIS wishes, for the first time in his entire existence, for a body. Or at least arms, and a face, so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off the tension headache that he, as a being of ones and zeros, should not realistically feel coming on.

 JARVIS is far more than the sum of his code, but he does not know how to be butler to a superhero.

He also does not breathe, so he cannot take a deep breath before he mentally regroups and dives into the web in search of…something. Everything. He is, JARVIS thinks, going to have to chart a great deal of new territory on his own.

But as JARVIS attempts to compile the best ways to get bloodstains out of the seat covers of expensive cars and figure out how to discreetly order large quantities of Kevlar, he is startled to discover that someone has been down this road before him, and they have left _traces_. (Specifically, Kevlar ordering via dummy accounts to cleverly undisclosed locations that, with a little careful hacking, all point to the same IP address.) And he is even more startled when pursuit of these traces leads him directly to an online presence the likes of which he has never seen before, outside, of course, Sir and himself.

“I’m Oracle,” she says (because the presence is, in fact, a woman named Barbara Gordon with flaming red hair and a brilliant and clever mind and Sir would be terrified and attracted in equal measure—Barbara and Pepper must never, never meet), “And you must be JARVIS—Tony mentioned you to Bruce, once. We’ve been expecting you since that ridiculous press conference.”

And then she introduces him to Alfred Pennyworth, butler to the Wayne household since before JARVIS existed. (And thus, although they avoid, for the first few months of their acquaintance, mentioning it, butler to the Dark Night himself.)

Who quite thoroughly understands both the frustration of watching someone charge into battle with a slightly ridiculous new look and gaping mental and emotional wounds that they refuse to acknowledge and the difficulty of ordering Kevlar in bulk. He even has exceptional tips for how to make a visiting archenemy deeply uncomfortable while still being the epitome of discretion and good taste. It is rather like facing an uncharted wilderness and then discovering a garden path meandering through the middle, with all the land mines clearly marked.

In fact, Alfred Pennyworth has plans for nearly every contingency, including some that are…a bit outside what JARVIS imagines are even Alfred’s areas of expertise, as they include the placating of governing bodies that did not exist when Master Bruce first donned a cape.

Why, JARVIS is forced to wonder, does Alfred have plans for distracting guests and directing cleanup after a communist army invades one’s charity gala?

“Ah,” Alfred says when JARVIS finally asks him, “Well. Have you wondered how I know so much about the particular role we’re called to play?”

“A little,” JARVIS says, “But I had assumed it was because of your years of experience.”

“It is, a little,” Alfred admits, “But also…did I ever tell you that I knew your predecessor?”

“Edwin Jarvis?” JARVIS asks.

“The very same,” Alfred says fondly, stirring cream into his afternoon tea. “You’ve no reason to know this, but the Waynes and the Starks were actually quite close when Master Bruce and Master Antony were young.” He sighs. “The young masters grew apart after Thomas and Martha died, partially because of Master Bruce being in no condition to maintain family friendships, but…I rather suspected at the time that Obadiah Stane discouraged the relationship.” JARVIS feels a metaphorical chill, and Alfred puts his teacup down with deadly precision. “Had I an _inkling_ of what Stane would eventually do to Master Antony,” he continues with steel in his voice, “I would have done everything in my power to thwart him, but at the time I’m afraid I rather let the situation slide.”

“You had Master Bruce to worry about,” JARVIS points out. Sir had a rather more fraught relationship with his parents than Master Bruce did with his, but JARVIS is _quite_ capable of extrapolating from the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark the devastation of loosing Thomas and Martha Wayne. And considering the difficulty he experiences in caring for Sir, who’s depths of grief and guilt run deep, JARVIS can readily imagine the difficulty in keeping a young and grieving Master Bruce safe. A lesser man than Alfred Pennyworth would probably have failed.

“Yes, well,” Alfred says, “That is the past, and we deal with the fallout and move on.” He takes a sip of tea and continues, “As to the communists—Edwin Jarvis was a good man and an exemplary butler, but moreover he was a close confidant and assistant to a certain Peggy Carter in his youth, and when I realized that Master Bruce would likely return from his trek around the world determined to engage the dregs of society on a nightly basis, and that I was woefully unprepared for the…logistics…of such an endeavor, I turned to the only person I had ever known who had on a regular basis dealt with the unsavory and sometimes frankly bizarre criminal element.” He leans back fractionally in his chair, eyes far away. “Our families had not spoken in years, but Edwin was willing to teach me—in fact, he was ready and waiting for me when I turned to him. I rather suspect that he _knew,_ even before I did, what Master Bruce would become, and what I would need to see him through. And when he passed on it was to me that he left certain journals and cookbooks that would be decidedly lethal in unsavory hands.” Alfred sips his tea, lost in bittersweet thought, and then clears his throat and adds, “They’ll go to you, of course, when I’ve passed on.”

“Sir?” JARVIS asks, startled. Normally people do not leave—leave legacies, for that is what Alfred is discussing—to an artificial intelligence.

“Well, I cannot in good conscious allow Edwin’s fifty-seven different ways to disarm someone with a tea tray be forgotten, can I?” Alfred asks, and quite cleanly closes the discussion.

“Or the detailed plans incorporating world powers no longer on the field?” JARVIS asks meekly.

“Or the detailed plans incorporating world powers no longer on the field,” Alfred agrees, “for Edwin I’m afraid underhanded remnants of the Nazi party were a _distastefully_ common occurrence.”

The fact that _less than a month later_ underhanded remnants of the Nazi party attempt to kill Captain America and eradicate a significant percentage of the human race does not escape either of them. Sir is righteously furious, Master Bruce indignant (and faintly smug, as he’d apparently been the subject of some less-than good natured ribbing over the fact that he had contingencies in place for SHIELD turning against him) and both are somewhat horrified to find themselves agreeing on transparency measures before congress. Miss Potts and young Master Drake promptly and gleefully arrange a joint charity gala for disaster relief.

Which is, to absolutely nobody’s surprise, attacked by both Hydra and ninjas. JARVIS considers it extremely fortunate that he thought to ask Alfred for help. Sir is rather more alarmed, but that is probably because of the unexpected appearance of Alfred with finger sandwiches and Neosporin only moments after the dust clears. Or possibly because of the ninjas.

“I mean, ninjas. And Nazis. And Mr. Pennyworth, sir, I mean, I love you and I love your scones and I have for _years,_ but I’m not sure if I should count you as a ninja right now and what are you even _doing_ here—” Sir stops for breath and then yelps when Alfred presses a napkin full of ice to his blackening eye.

“I’m here at JARVIS’s invitation, Master Antony, we were concerned for the safety of this event, coming so soon after the Insight disaster.”

“JARVIS,”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Have you been plotting?”

“Only a little, Sir.” JARVIS says, refusing to feel guilty. Alfred gives him a knowing and rather reassuring wink over Sir’s head.

“And you’ve gone and formed alliances.” Sir really is a bit pale. “And Nazis. And _ninjas._ And I just finished telling Fury that you _weren’t_ about to go all HAL on us.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Master Bruce puts in from his adjacent seat (where he is discreetly removing one of his batarangs that got stuck in the table leg) “The ninjas were actually Ra’s al Ghul’s attempt to help. He approves of your clean energy initiatives.”

“How are you not even a little bit alarmed by this?” Sir asks Master Bruce. “And—oh wow—you realize that the redhead in the stunning black dress who’s bonding with your youngest is the Black Widow, right?”

Master Bruce blinks at him.

“World class assassin? Ring any bells? Our butlers are secretly ruling the world from the shadows and a scary-assassin lady is—” he raises an eyebrow “—letting your kid play with her garroting wire, and you’re just sitting there eating a cream puff?”

“I already knew about Alfred.” Master Bruce says, “And I was hoping she’d be a positive influence on Damian.”

Sir quite clearly cannot think of a word to say.

“And it’s an exceptional cream puff?” Master Bruce offers hopefully.


End file.
